


Spacetime

by reynkout



Series: Enantiomers [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Fluff and Smut, Horse Jokes, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Marriage, Newly weds, No Plot/Plotless, Shyness, Teasing, Transporter Malfunction, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, part of the Isotopes universe, really just plain sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 02:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3273209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reynkout/pseuds/reynkout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco, me, and 'married' all start with the letter 'm'.</p><p>My life has never been so perfect before. Now that Marco's here with me, I can be proud to say I'm the happiest man alive.<br/>And I wouldn't have it any other way.</p><p>[Written in the Isotopes AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spacetime

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all!  
> 

Married.

We’re _married_.

Married.

The word ‘married’; somehow, I can’t quite wrap my brain around it yet.

Married.

We’re _married_.

I can’t fucking believe it.

My dreams, I thought, were always just an escape for me to live in. But this, this _breakthrough_ has me baffled; overwhelmed with emotion. The ring Marco gave me is on my finger, gleaming and full-out _real_. I can run my hand over it, feel the stones and precious metal.

It’s all real, and my dream has become my reality.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

I crack an eye open, getting a ray of lamplight directly in my face. Squinting, I give my first groan of the morning. “Hmph,”

“Aw, don’t ‘harumph’ me, Mr. Kirstein. It’s already nine in the afternoon,”

I turn around in bed, yawning widely. My vision focuses on my ridiculously gorgeous husband, who is sitting up with his pillow propped up against the wall. Marco’s got his legs under the sheets still, one of the books I bought for him in his lap. He’s trying to read.

I check the alarm clock. It’s ten past nine AM. My head flops into my pillow.

“Nice try, Marco.” I mumble.

Somehow, he’s able to understand me even when my face is pressed so far into the fluff of my pillow. “ _It’s nine in the afternoon, your eyes are the size of the moon,_ ” he sings, chuckling. I pull my pillow from under my head to slam it into Marco’s chest. “No, really. You should get up, honey. Sleeping away the whole day isn’t good for you.”

I lay on my back now, eyes up at the ceiling. “Says the man who slept for eighteen hours straight the first night he stepped foot in this universe,”

He slaps my arm playfully. “Shut it, you. In my case, I happened to go through a very tiring transportation at the time. Rest was crucial for my recovery.”

I say, “Is that really a good reason for that?”

“A good reason for what?” He’s playing dumb.

“Ugh,”

I roll all the way over so I’m draped over the lower section of his body, plucking the book out of his lap, setting it off to the side. Marco’s not wearing his pajama pants, just his boxers. Perfect.

Marco raises his eyebrows at me, then a face-splitting grin crawls onto his lips. “I thought you wanted to sleep the day away,” he says simply.

“I do,” I tell him, reaching into his boxers. His cock twitches with excitement when I brush my fingertips over it. “I’m gonna sleep away the day with you.”

He sighs, tilting back his head as I stroke him firmly. “Mm, I like the sound of that.”

“Me too, me too.” I agree with him. “So why were you giving me lip for sleeping in?”

“Maybe because I was planning this all along,” he answers like he’s serious. I roll my eyes at him.

He directs me up to his lips and catches mine with his teeth, nipping at them before we initiate in a sweet good-morning kiss. My eyes flutter shut and I give in to the kiss, letting myself get lost in his passion.

Our lips lock with each other, breath mingling. Marco brings my body closer to his, all the way until our chests are touching. He feels over my biceps, running his hands over the sides of my ribcage, where he knows I’m sensitive and ticklish. I snort, smiling into our kiss. He takes that opportunity to shove his tongue into my mouth.

I fight for dominance, trying to own him at his own game. My tongue chases his, to and fro, from one mouth to the other, until they collide and rub against one another. Marco angles his face a little so he can snog me better, leaning forward, hands on my shoulders.

We kiss for a bit longer before I break it off, squeezing my husband’s cock in my hand. He jumps back a little, enough for me to travel back down to his crotch and gaze up at his face. I slide his boxers down to his ankles, where he kicks them off haphazardly. Marco sits back, ready for more.

“Eager much,” I stick my tongue out, dangerously close to the turtle-necked tip of his dick. I could almost lick it. But I don’t, leaving him desperate for more.

Marco almost whines, but he refrains from doing so. Instead, he says, "Only because you look like you're really enjoying it down there,"

“Oh, I am,” My mouth is latched onto the head, tongue darting to taste him.

He’s salty and flavorful; something about his skin sets my tongue on fire, like I’m lapping at some type of spiced treat, and not sucking on a dick. His musk smells wonderful. I may be addicted to the scent because I inhale some more before taking him deeper into my mouth. Marco groans softly, hips shifting a little to get himself more spread out and comfortable.

I spread his legs wider, massaging them with my palms. They’re a ticklish spot of his that has Marco bucking up into my mouth, letting out a bark of laughter. His member grows hotter and harder, pulsing more and more as I slide up and down his girth, tongue running along the vein that deserves attention on the underside of Marco’s cock. My husband lets out a hiss, a tan, freckled hand burying itself in my dark blond locks of hair.

My nose nuzzles into his dark fuzz when I swallow around the base of his cock, humming around him when he pulls at my hair. My lips are slick with saliva, my warm mouth enveloping his entire length. I’ve gotten good at this, deep-throating Marco like it’s nothing.

He whimpers when I pull myself off of him to grin devilishly.

"Jean, please," he says in a tiny voice.

My eyes narrow, and I lick him over the tip, sending his hands flying to my shoulders. He's stuck between pushing me away for a breather and dragging me closer so we can initiate in some dirty sex.

Thankfully, Marco always goes for the dirty sex option.

My face is practically slammed into his crotch, and I moan against his blazing skin. I go back to my previous task, my gaze fixed with his.

His eyes, chocolate and soft, smolder with lust and arousal; they send shivers down my spine, and I begin to tent a fantastic erection in my shorts. He exhales shakily every time I swallow down and around him, whispering my name.

I feel my body reacting to his voice, my eyes sliding shut as I get lost in the motion of giving head to my husband. My movements become more pronounced, confident, stronger and sharper. Despite my jaw aching, I work harder, giving more effort into my task.

One of my hands go to the base of Marco’s cock, where I stroke him upward into my mouth as I go down, thumb bumping my swollen lips every so often. He’s solid, rock-hard, and I absolutely know he wants more than just a blowjob right now.

His hips wiggle in anticipation when I draw back to examine what I’m dealing with here. Marco slouches down, spreading his legs open so that his knees face outward. I take my chances to press open-mouthed kisses over his warm, freckled skin, pecking beautiful thighs, slowly-but-surely zeroing in on the place Marco wants to be touched. The thought of eating him out is enticing.

A finger glides over Marco's tiny pucker, pink and tight. He gasps, and I spread his cheeks so I can get a better look at him. He's so pretty. My tongue dives in for a test-taste.

Heady moans erupt from his throat as I slurp at him, brush my tongue back and forth; it's driving him crazy. He pulls at my hair, sparks of pleasure popping throughout my body. I use one hand to palm my ever-growing bulge. My tongue makes his entrance wet and needy.

I stiffen the tip of my tongue, poking it into him. Marco groans, his palm resting on his forehead like a fainting maiden. If I could cackle, I would, but I'm too occupied with trying to fuck him with my tongue.

He eases me back after a while.

"Lube," he pants.

"Where'd we put it last?" I ask, reluctantly getting up to find the precious bottle of lube.

Marco makes this 'mmn' noise before replying. "Think it was under the sink,"

"Which sink?"

"The kitchen one," he says. He sees me staring blank at him. "What? We did it on the counter last week. It's only logical it'd be down there,"

I locate the bottle, then bound back to the bed. "I'll show you what's down there." I swear Marco gapes at me for a second.

Popping open the cap of the lube bottle, I smear a generous amount of the stuff onto my fingers, rubbing them together to warm up the liquid. I figure three should be enough to stretch him.

When I look back at Marco, he’s got his legs spread wide, inviting and anticipating for more. I settle between them, nuzzling his package with my nose. It tickles him when I exhale. His thighs tremble as I stroke them softly with my free, dry hand.

“Relax, babe,” I coo, but my husband does anything but relax. “Marco,”

He nods, biting his lower lip. He doesn’t reply verbally.

I sweep my lips up his stomach, tracing his happy line up to his belly button, and then further up. I litter his torso in kisses, allowing my mouth to fall open a bit so I can lick over his pert nipples, stiff buds that I can graze my teeth on. Marco makes something like a mewl when my teeth latch onto him before I release his nipple and lave over it with my tongue in apology.

Marco gives me a sloppy, wet kiss, begging for lots of attention. He rubs his pink muscle along mine, jabbing into the side of my cheek; he explores my hot cavern.

“Hmm,” I break off the kiss. Marco seems like he’s ready for preparation. “You alright?”

He smiles. “Yeah,” Marco strokes up his own body with his palms. “Go for it, Stallion,”

I shake my head, grinning maniacally. “Don’t gotta tell me I’m a horse,”

He makes a face at me. “Well, have you _seen_ yourself? That schlong you've got there hangs _low_ ,” I can feel myself blushing at his comment; I choose to ignore it, instead breaching him with one finger.

Marco gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing low as he takes my first finger. Inside, he's extremely hot, burning up and begging for more. But I’ve got to take it slow; we’ve only ever done this a few times since he’s come to my universe, my world, and physical activity seems to wear him out a ton more than when we do it in our dreams.

I push in and out, starting up a small rhythm with my finger to get him used to the motion. Marco’s impatient though, pushing back onto me like he’s already loosened up, ready for me to enter. I kiss him, peck him on the lips again and again, until I deem him set for another digit.

“Baby,” I croak, my forehead against his. I lock eyes with him.

Marco’s mouth makes a little ‘o’, lips wet and glistening. “Jean,” he groans my name. “Do the thing,”

“The.. thing..?”

“Mmm,”

He nudges me off until I can see his hands. He holds two fingers up, in the same way mine are positioned in him. Marco makes a show of shoving them deep into his throat, slicking them up with copious amounts of his saliva. When he retracts them from his mouth, then makes a scissoring motion in the air. I can see the saliva making strings between his two fingers, sliding down to his knuckles.

Fuck. So that’s what he’s asking for.

I repeat the movement within Marco, stretching him wider than before. I feel his walls of muscle resisting at first, and I fear for a second that his body may not be able to take me. But, after a few seconds, he eases up. Soon, he feels as if his body’s trying to suck me in, wanting.

Marco begins to writhe amongst the sheets, thighs shivering and abdomen flexing as he moves. He touches my body, anywhere, pulling at the waistband of my shorts. Furrowing my brows, I begin to scissor inside of him.

He lolls his head around, pretty moans spilling from his throat. I continue to dig deeper, spreading him open wide with my two fingers, thrusting them more into him. My finger pads rub against his muscles; his stare into my eyes is searing and titillated. I curl my fingers as I push three fingers into Marco.

My husband yelps, eyes going wide. His hands shoot to mine, his body almost folding in half. He attempts to take in some air, but his chest won’t allow it. It takes him a few seconds for his brain to reroute and get the air flowing into his lungs again.

“That feel good?” My question comes out light and fleeting even though I don’t mean it to. I guess I’m nervous. By the looks of it, Marco _was_ (yes, past tense), too.

He gives a high-pitched whine at me in response, grip on my wrists going slack before he lies back down, lifting his arms over his head. I lean back, taking a good look at where Marco’s penetrated.

I’m blown away; he looks delectable, like a cherry, ripe for the picking. He’s wrapped around me, pucker attempting to get my fingers all the way in there. I can only imagine what it would be like when I put my cock in there, too.

But, really, I don’t have to imagine, because Marco shifts from under me, his legs wrapping around my waist.

My eyes lock onto his, and I become a little nervous. I’ve actually never done this fully conscious. What if I mess up? What if Marco doesn’t like it when I’m fully in control of myself? What if I don’t satisfy him? What if he hates it? What if, after this, he hates _me_?

Marco notices this, and his expression softens. He brings me close, my nose bumping slightly with his. Angling his head, he whispers sweet-nothings in my ear, coaxing me to let go of my unexpected, sudden timidness.

“Hey,” he says.

I bite my lip. “Hi,”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Marco reassures me.

But I want to. I want to so bad.

I pause everything stupidly, I admit, for a second to pull off my shorts and chuck them on the floor. Then, I steady myself against his entrance, my teeth gnawing on my lower lip. Marco grins brilliantly, happy I'm taking initiative to get the show on the road. My tip sits at the entrance of his puckered opening, waiting, dripping with fluids.

My heart is _pounding_ as Marco takes my hand in his, lacing our fingers together. He takes it to his chest, laying our intertwined hands on his breast, where his heart beats under freckled skin. His muscles aren’t tense, so there’s no reason I should be so uptight, either. Bejeezus. He wants this, and I want it, too.

And then I’m pushing in, his warmth enveloping me, welcoming me into his most inner region. Marco arches, gasps off the couch-bed, eyes sliding shut for just a second. He breathes in sharp, drawn-out breaths, moaning slightly. His chest collides against mine. Marco’s heartbeat races under his ribcage; I can feel it.

Inch by agonizing inch, I enter him to the hilt. And, by God, it’s _so_ hot and _tight_ in there. I can barely believe it; how I can fit in him without stretching Marco so wide that he breaks is a complete mystery. A mystery that I truly believe can never be solved… not that I want to; I’m perfectly fine the way things are, especially since Marco’s making the sexiest faces possible as he takes me.

I attempt not to move, even though I really, _very_ much so want to. Marco needs time to adjust to my length, to the sudden intrusion. His freckled hand stays in mine, holding mine tight.

I don’t know if he’s actually ready for this.

Not until he squeezes around me, throwing me off-guard.

My eyes almost bulge out of my skull as I watch him stare at me with eyes that are beginning to go hazy, a devilish smirk playing across his sinfully delightful lips.

“Oh my god, babe,” I gasp. He’s fucking unbelievable.

Marco giggles, blowing a raspberry at me as my jaw drops, shocked, before he constricts his muscles around me again. This time, I grit my teeth in order to prevent a pathetic noise coming from the back of my throat.

As if in retaliation, I pull back, then thrust in _deep_ and _hard_. It knocks the smugness from Marco within an instant, and he scrambles to clutch at my shoulders.

He gasps, “Jean..!”

I’m drawing back, almost all the way out of him, before I slam back in; our skin slaps together with a sharp sound.

Shit, he’s just so hot and tight and _ugh_ , perfect. Marco draws out his moans, loud and genuine. His mouth hangs open, his breaths coming out as pants for air. Chocolatey, blown eyes are glazed over and half-lidded, staring up at me. His freckles stand out against his blushing cheeks like cinnamon flecks across creamy, dark mousse skin.

We move together, in sync, as if we’re two perfectly shaped gears that make the timepiece tick. Marco responds to my every thrust, every move. He’s shivering from the top of his spine down, ribs rattling if they could.

Leaning over Marco, I can feel my breath condensing over his tanned shoulder. The curve of his joint is padded slightly with soft, satiny skin that I can't _not_ dare to slip my lips upon. Me worshipping his shoulders turns out to be something like making out with it; Marco lets out a few notes of cackling laughter when I start licking up his collarbones, all the way up to his Adam’s apple.

“So g-good,” his voice nearly cracks as I push into him particularly deep. “Jean,”

I grind out, “Marco, babe,”

He lets out a tiny huff, separating his hand from mine, his legs releasing my sides. He feels up my abdomen before saying, “Hey, I wanna try something,”

“O-o-oh, yeah?” My eyebrows almost shoot up to the roof. “What’s up?”

He gets me to slide out of him with a hiss, a finger trailing up my covered length quickly. He flips over, onto his perfect belly, legs out in a frogger-position across the sheets. Marco lets his head fall into the pillow, then he turns to wink at me out of the corner of his eye.

 _Player_.

“What are you doing, baby?” I ask him in a voice I myself am not used to. It’s soft, unlike the gravelly, defensive one that I use on a daily basis.

His eyes shine like crystals. “I want you,” He points at his bare ass. “To do me like this.”

I swear, I gasp at him, head nodding in approval like one of those baseball miniature bobbleheads placed on a car’s dashboard. Next thing I know, I’m plunging back into his heat.

My timidness is obliterated.

I’m nearly beside myself, gripping his hips as an anchor to hold us down as I take us higher, trying to reach Cloud Nine. Sweat trickles down my forehead, down to the tip of my nose, where it dangles and swings violently back and forth in time to my thrusts. My whole face feels like I’ve been in the sun too long, all the way down to my neck.

Marco’s close to chewing through the pillow, making the lewdest of sounds. They fill the flat, the noises bouncing off the walls; some actually going _through_ the walls to annoy the neighbors… if they were there, that is. Everyone should be at work right now.

My front bends, and then I’m mouthing up Marco’s back, kissing over all the freckles I can find. My teeth graze over and across his shoulder blades. I suck at the juncture between his neck and shoulder; I want to leave my mark on him.

He’s _mine_.

And I’m _his_.

“Hnn, Jean,” Marco’s ass is bouncing back on me. His hips roll back onto me whenever I pound forward into him, back arching. “Mm, babes, fuck me harder,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeaah, feels so good,” he emphasizes that with a breathy moan.

My God. Marco is a fucking _mess_ on the bed. His dark hair is tousled, face ablaze, eyes hooded, and body begging for more. He’s pleading for more, for all of me, and he won’t stop until he gets what he wants. I’m no chance against him.

I rail into him, my throat going ragged with each intake of breath. My groans match his near wails; we make a cacophony of noises that, in only our ears, sound like a singing chorus of our want for each other. Marco in baritone, me in squeaky tenor.

He pushes himself up from the bed with his forearms, head turned as far as it can go. His eyes pierce mine, and I’m drawn into them. I drape myself over him a little more, capturing his lips in mine.

Marco’s out of words beside my name. All he can do now is moan pretty for me, his grip on the sheets going to my hips instead. He finds his leverage there, where he can hold on and ride me for all I’ve got.

Praises spew from my mouth; I call his name more than a dozen times a minute, telling him how fantastic he is, how happy I am, how much he he turns me on to the extent of wanting to fuck him everywhere in this shitty, little studio I’ve been renting for some time now.

Marco returns my compliments with ecstatic moans. It’s clear he wants to hear more, so I don’t stop. I describe what he does to me, how _good_ he feels around me. All I want to do is stay in him forever, make us feel like this all the time. He’d never be sore, always wrapped around me like a vice. He and I would truly be one, never to be parted again. Not even in death.

“Ohh,”

He’s attempting to form a coherent sentence, but I’m piledriving into him too hard. I slow down, and Marco lets out a whine of disapproval.

“Wanna hear you, baby,” I say. My hips still pump iron.

Marco’s keening, his muscles stretching and contracting beneath delicious, freckled skin. He rubs his face from one cheek to the other amongst the pillows, whining deep in his throat. His eyes are clenched shut. I can’t tell if he’s still mentally there or not. He whispers my name until I turn him over so I can see his face.

Damn, he looks _beautiful_. My _husband_ (that’s right) looks beautiful. He’s everything I could ever ask for, everything I could ever imagine having. I would trade this world just for him. Hell, if he were the one who made our transporter, I’d be the one moving to his universe, trusting him wholeheartedly, just like he trusts me enough to be transported to mine.

Our noses get real close as we speak through our eyes, brown to hazel-green. No one makes a peep as our bodies continuously join together, shifting against each other to become one.

There’s pressure building in my belly, a cribbly-crawly sensation that makes me grind into Marco more than actually thrusting. He showers my chin, up the apples of my cheeks, the temples of my forehead with butterfly-light kisses.

I’m electrocuted with two million feelings at once when those three words come out of his mouth:

“I love you,”

If I hadn’t been so caught up in my emotions, I could have sworn my heart skipped two or three beats. Those three words, so simply put, affect me in the greatest way possible. It takes me a moment to remember where I am again.

Marco’s expression can only be explained as ‘wowed’, with a hint of ‘aroused’. Then, he jabs his tongue into his cheek, smiling an awful lot.

“Whoa, Jean,” he says. “Hold your horses,” I wheeze out a laugh, rolling my eyes at him. “I love you,” he repeats. “I love you so much, Jean.”

“I love you, too, you goofball,” I reply, hands tracing up and down his arms.

Marco directs one of them to his dripping, neglected cock that lays on his stomach. I give him a look, which he returns with cheekiness.

He strokes himself with my palm, arching up into the friction. I decide to double it, gripping onto him and start bucking into him again. He gasps, arching, but I use my other hand to pin him down.

We go at this for what seems like an eternity. It’s an eternity that has me hooked to him; I’ll never get enough of how he makes me feel. Marco’s voice gets deeper, groaning, moaning. He’s so close, I know it, and so am I.

Marco’s eyes flutter, rolling back, and then he’s coming, oh God, he’s _coming_ with a shout of my name on his lips. His spunk spurts across his stomach, up to his chest. Some even gets his chin. My hand holding him is soaked in his cum.

“Fuck, baby,” I sputter, hips slapping his ass furiously now.

One, two, three; I never lose count at how many times I thrust into Marco before I spill my seed, white firework-like spots exploding behind my eyeballs, my whole body on fire. My orgasm, it’s so intense, knocking the wind right out of me. When I finally come back down to earth, Marco’s petting me softly, touches full of warmth and care. I allow myself to slump onto him, burying my face into the crook of his neck.

It takes a while, but Marco finally coerces me to get up and bring us to the cramped bathroom, where we can wash up, preparing for endless rounds of cuddles. I discard of the used condom, then hobble over to the shower with Marco’s arm over my shoulders.

We smile at each other, then give us another kiss.

“I love you, babes,” he declares once more.

I kiss him for effect. “Me too, Marco, me too.” Then, slowly, “I love you, too.”

“I’ll love you even when death do us apart,” he says.

I grin this shit-eating grin that he knows all too well. “You twerp, nothing’ll separate us. Not ever.”

He laughs. “It’s a saying, Jean. Just a vow.”

“God, I know,” I pretend I’m exasperated, and hit him playfully over the head when he’s not expecting it. “Come on, let’s get showered up,”

His eyes twinkle. 

“Yes. Let’s.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, like this? Why not give it a kudo or a comment?
> 
> See you next time!
> 
> \- Kristine, out


End file.
